Archimedes
by Lassroyale
Summary: After the incident with the Questing Beast, Merlin realizes he's going to need help keeping Arthur alive.
1. Prelude: Beating of the Forest Heart

**Prelude: Beating of the Forest Heart **

In the deep forest of the wood surrounding Camelot, past the lake where the Sidhe reign, past the dens where bugbears lurk, there is a grove. It is ringed by free-standing stones, each a man's size in height plus one. They stand, vigilant guardians to what lay in the very center of a clearing - the Mound. The Mound rises from the forest floor like the gentle swell of a pregnant belly. It often gave travelers who passed through the peculiar feeling that _something_ had simply curled up, tail to nose, for a midday rest and forgotten about the world around it.

It wasn't so far from the truth.

The grove was _Old_ and it smelled of all things old, like decaying flowers, wet earth, and magick. Something ancient lay there in the heart of the forest, it slumbered as ancient things are wont to do, and occasionally it shifted, like a hibernating bear turning in its long sleep.

The grove too, was eerily quiet, so still that one could easily hear the lullaby of the wind as it whispered through the leaves and grass. Then suddenly, there was _movement_.

The stone sentinels began vibrating and a low moan swept through the clearing. It filled the air with a gentle hum that pulsated down into the earth, shaking the ground in a slow, gentle manner.

And in response, from the depths of the Mound there was a stirring, and the land itself seemed to _shrug_.

(To be continued.)


	2. The Fox Trickster

**Part One: The Fox Trickster**

The trees were speaking with one another, groaning out a lengthy conversation in a shift of creaking branches and fluttering leaves. They whispered in hushed tones high above Merlin's head as he picked his way through the forest floor, his leather satchel slung crosswise over his chest. His head was bent in concentration though he would raise his chin and glance around at his surroundings every now and then, as if to reassure himself that he was going in the right direction. On all sides of him, the forest continued to murmur.

The sorcerer glanced down at the object in his hands and wet his lips nervously before slipping it back into his bag. Here, this deep into the woods, he experienced the sensation of something old and something powerful settling deeply into his bones. It warned him of things not to be trifled with and of things that were best left undisturbed. Of course Merlin wouldn't pay any heed to the warnings - he was here for Arthur and when it came to him it was proven that he would move the sun and the stars if he could.

He had long ceased to think this was just because it was his "destiny". He would do anything for Arthur for something far greater than destiny. He would do anything for Arthur because he loved him.

It didn't take Merlin long to reach his destination. As he stepped past the ring of stones into the secluded grove, he felt the tang of magick strongly upon his tongue; he could practically _taste_ it. It spoke to his blood and it made his own magick hum excitedly through his veins. The power of the grove hit him like a fine red wine. It warmed him; a soothing heat that radiated out from his chest and flowed into his limbs until he could practically feel it drip from his fingers and toes. It sang to him in a language which sounded as old as the earth, beckoning him forward, forward, forward...forward towards the Mound.

The power dizzied him. He stumbled and fell to his knees not halfway across the clearing, overcome with the sensation. The grass beneath his palms was soft, as inviting as clean sheets and a bug-free mattress at the close of a trying day. He could feel the magick surge upwards from the earth itself and it seeped through his palms and turned his eyes a deep golden color. It filled him, clogging his senses until all that Merlin could feel was it surrounding him, encompassing him in a comfortable womb.

"This isn't so bad," he thought, and felt himself grow heavy and sluggish, drunk with the rush of magick surging through him, "I could stay here for just a little while..." He lowered his head until his cheek was nearly touching the damp loam of the forest floor, when he felt something shift and fall from his satchel. It landed next to him with a soft thump and drew Merlin's eyes towards the sound.

A hunting horn, as basic as one could ever be, lay in the grass beside him. It was brown like the skin of a tree and made from a stag's curved antler. The tapered mouth was fitted with a brass piece, but it was otherwise unadorned.

Merlin reached out and closed his fingers over the horn and his head felt suddenly clear. His eyes lost their golden colour and he remembered his purpose: _Arthur_. He had come here for Arthur. The sorcerer clamored back to his feet and raised the horn to his lips. Then he blew and a single, eerie note cut through the air.

*******

Deep beneath the warlock's feet, something turned and paused, as if gently roused from its sleep by the call of a rooster in the early morn. A deep sigh reverberated through the ground, traveling the length of the clearing in a perfect circle. In response, the ring of stones vibrated, oscillating in time with the pulse of the earth.

Something within the Mound shifted and in response to the fading sound of the horn's call, there came a rich, feminine chuckle. The Mound split, opening like a boil which had been punctured, and from its center a woman unfolded. Merlin's mouth fell open. Compared to this woman even Morgana could not hold a candle to her beauty.

The woman stood tall and naturally lithe, her body curved and feminine yet with distinctly hard edge. Her hair was a wild mane of fox-fur colored strands; deep red one moment, the color of flame the next. Her lips were dark crimson, stained the color of fresh blood on a wide and sensuous mouth. And her eyes - oh her eyes! The were slanted and large, fringed by sable black and colored the same fox-fur hue as her hair.

The woman placed a hand on her hip and Merlin was surprised to see that her skin was not smooth at all but rather covered in very fine fur, as white as snow and as soft-looking as mink. He wanted to run his fingers over that fur, feel it, and feel the woman's hard curves beneath his palms. Instead he clutched the stag horn to him and stood very still.

This wasn't an ordinary woman, after all. This was a forest goddess or perhaps just a powerful spirit. Either way, he would have to tread carefully. Nevertheless he was rather pleased that _something_ had at least answered the horn's call.

"Tell me little warlock, why have you woken me from my sleep?" asked the woman. "I was having the loveliest dream of tracking a defiler through the forest and spilling his blood with the hounds at my heels. _You_ interrupted that." She frowned and took a step towards him. Merlin did his best not to flinch back. "I was dreaming of a time," she continued, her flame-colored gaze looking straight through him, "when the old magick - the wild magick - ran rampant and free throughout all of the land. I dreamed of a time when the Amadan na Briona would summon us with that horn in your hands and call us to the Wild Hunt." She looked profoundly sad for a moment and her melancholy washed over Merlin like a palpable force. "The Amadan has gone deep into the womb of the land and will not return unless the old ways are restored. I myself prefer to slumber." A note of anger. Merlin swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"I have come to ask a favor of you," he said, recoiling a little as the woman came very near and walked in a tight circle around him. "I, err, I am the manservant to Arthur Pendragon," he continued and was interrupted when the woman snorted and gave him a toothy smile.

"The one who is destined to return magick to the land?" she asked with an arch of her brow, "how very interesting it is _you_ who comes to me now. Tell me, does Uther Pendragon still keep his life?" Merlin nodded in response, watching the woman with a careful gaze. She frowned. "Pity that."

"I've come to realize," he went on, "that I cannot always be there to protect Arthur." A dark look of remembrance rippled across his features as the thought about the Questing Beast and how truly close he had come to losing his beloved. "Balance will never be restored if I can't protect him." He sighed running his long fingers through his dark hair. "For a prince and an accomplished warrior, he is _quite_ hard to keep alive."

The woman laughed then, a deep, throaty laugh that came from her belly. "Indeed little warlock," she said, stepping back from him. "And you wear his stink infused into your essence as if you two were one." She looked thoughtful for a minute, studying his tall, thin frame critically. "What is it you want from me? Do not deny it - one does not try to call the Wild Hunt without a deeper purpose."

"It is Arthur's birthday tomorrow," said Merlin a tad desperately, his blue eyes pleading, "and I want to give him something that I can trust to protect him when I cannot be there. I've come to ask for one of the hounds of the Hunt."

A surprised look overcame the woman's features. She pursed her lips and it looked like she didn't know whether or not to be angry or be frightfully amused.

"A bold request," she finally replied, her tone suddenly grave. "The hounds are just as much our equals in the Hunt....and as dangerous as any of those who ride behind the Pack." She paused then said with emphasis, "They are _very_ precious to us. They are like our children and are far worthier than any mere dog - nay, any mere _human_ - that you will ever find. Each and every one has been blessed by the Amadan, the Lord of the Briar himself. Pray tell me just _why_ your Arthur Pendragon deserves one?"

"He is going to be a great king one day," said the sorcerer, "and he truly is nothing like his father." He smiled unconsciously as he thought about the blonde prince. "He is learning to be more compassionate every day and has proven himself to open-minded, just, and kind. He is meant to do great things for this land and its inhabitants," he paused, "_all_ of its inhabitants," he added.

The woman looked unconvinced. "Why do _you_ risk so much to come here to this place of magick? If you were ever caught, little one, you would be put to death. Our worlde would mourn the loss of one such as you."

"There is no length I wouldn't go to, to keep him alive," exclaimed Merlin passionately. "After this last time," he began in a voice thick with fear he hadn't quite shaken, "I can't bear to lose him. I can't risk it...he...he was so _close_ to death..."

"You are not telling me what _your_ reason is," she replied pointedly, her fox-fur colored eyes glinting dangerously. "I warn you against trying to trick me."

"I love him," stated Merlin simply. "I love him more than I love myself sometimes. It frightens me, but I...I couldn't bear having to live without him."

"A very selfish admission," said the woman thoughtfully, "but a very honest one at that." She nodded. "Very well, little warlock, I shall fulfill your request and your Arthur will have his hound." Joy flooded him upon hearing her words and he fought the urge to jump up and whoop. "But," said the woman in a low, dangerous voice, "remember this: the hound he is given will be loyal unto death to the one it serves. Be sure that your prince loves and cherishes it as we would. Otherwise you will find that our hounds are capable of biting the hand that feeds them."

Merlin nodded seriously. "I promise. You have my word."

"Good."

The woman returned to the Mound and reached deep into the split in the earth. She pulled something from the hole and cradled it to her, whispering to it in a low, rhythmic cadence in an ancient language that Merlin did not understand. When she turned back to him and in her arms was the largest, handsomest looking puppy he had ever laid eyes on. Its ears were floppy and its eyes were dark as pitch, though it's coat was white as hoarfrost. Its paws were too big for its body and the sorcerer felt his mouth twitch upwards when he saw its tail begin to wag uncontrollably at the sight of him.

He gathered the hound into his arms and marveled at the softness of its fur.

"He is excited to meet his new master so take him to Arthur with haste."

With that the woman turned away once more and began to walk into the forest, past the mound, and past the ring of stones.

"Wait!" called Merlin, taking a step in pursuit. She turned back to him, glancing over her shoulder. She waited, her eyes dancing with something close to puckish mirth. "Who are you?" he asked.

The woman grinned widely and her white teeth glinted. "I am named Amarice ap'Nudd, though those who know the lore of the forest have called me the Fox Trickster."

Then she was gone, swallowed by the trees which seemed to close around her like a protective cloak.

Merlin stared after her for awhile and then turned in wonderment, holding within his arms a famed hound of the Hunt.

He knew Arthur would love the hound for he was a strong and fine specimen, larger than any other puppy he had ever seen.

"Now don't worry if your new master is a prat sometimes," murmured Merlin to the pup as he began to wend his way back through the forest, "you just have to look past that. He's not half bad, really, once he realizes he's being a royal arse."

Merlin couldn't be sure but he thought that as he made his way through the woods, a large fox was trailing them. Occasionally he would see a glimpse of a tail disappearing behind a bush or a tree, and each time he felt the weight of eyes upon him. When he emerged from the treeline he felt the tingle of somebody watching and whirled, turning back towards the forest suddenly.

There, sitting in plain sight, was not a fox at all but a large owl, sitting on a low branch. It's unblinking yellow eyes were trained unfailingly upon him, and Merlin couldn't be sure but it appeared as if the owl bore a distinctly irascible expression. After watching him for several long minutes, the owl began to groom its feathers, apparently disinterested in whatever it was Merlin was doing. Feeling very much like he had just been dismissed, the sorcerer turned again and continued back towards Camelot.

(To be continued…)


	3. The Endless Waltz

**Title:** Archimedes: Part 2 - The Endless Waltz  
**Author:** Lassroyale  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warning:** All of Season 1 just to be safe  
**Disclaimer:** All the pretty boys are belong to...the BBC. Not me, sadly. I just play and torment, just a _little_  
**Parings:** Merlin/Arthur (established)  
**Word Count:** 3579  
**Summary:** After the Questing Beast, Merlin realized that he is going to need help keeping and eye on Arthur.

**A/N: **Part 2 to the story. This changed a little bit from what I had originally outlined and it looks like the overall arc will be longer too. The name of Arthur's hound will be changing. ;) Title is from Gundam Wing.

I'm also having trouble finding a beta for this fic, so once again it is just checked by me. All mistakes are my own. I tried to keep it as IC as I could.

***

Uther Pendragon had spared no expense for his son's birthday and it seemed that the lord and ladies who attended the feast hadn't spared any expense in the gifts they brought, either. Each one was more lavish (and gaudier) than the next. It was obvious that many members of the court sought favor with the young prince through the heaviness of their wallets, though most of the presents paled in comparison to Uther's gift.

The king had earlier that day presented his son with a warhorse, the finest stallion in all the land, or so he had proclaimed. The horse was a beast, a solid 19 hands in height with a glossy, charcoal grey coat and hooves that were sharp and as large as saucers. He was spirited and temperamental, and he absolutely _hated_ Merlin - something which they had discovered when Arthur had taken him down to the stables to oversee the grooming of the beast. The stallion had greeted Arthur with a soft, pleased wicker of recognition, taken one look at Merlin, and his pert ears fell back flat against his head. He then proceeded to try and bite the sorcerer's shoulder when Merlin drew too near.

Of course Arthur found it all terribly amusing and immediately named the horse Hero, despite the dark look Merlin threw him _and_ the cursed beast.

"Those bloody hooves would make a lot of glue for your subjects, _sire_," muttered Merlin, eying Hero warily as he attempted to make peace with him by offering a carrot. He narrowly managed to snatch back his hand in time to keep all his fingers. As it was there was a loud ripping noise and Merlin glared at the stallion, who now had a good portion of his right sleeve between his teeth. Arthur laughed and made a clicking noise with his tongue. Hero tossed his magnificent head and sort of wheezed through his nostrils in such a way that it sounded suspiciously like an equine snicker.

Merlin fixed the horse with a withering glance and stepped back, well out of the creature's reach. "I think your _fine steed_ is sick, Arthur. You should put him down immediately." He paused. "I'll help you myself," he added with false sweetness.

The prince merely rolled his eyes and tugged the piece of brown fabric from Hero's teeth. He handed it to the sorcerer who snatched it with long, quick fingers.

"Honestly Merlin, I thought all of the sword practice I make you go through would have sharpened your reflexes by now." A positively wicked glint entered his blue eyes and he took a step towards the slender youth. Woe to those who thought the Prince too dense for deviousness, for when he had the mind to be he could positively _sinful_. "Perhaps, Merlin," said Arthur with his trademark smirk, "I am keeping you up too late at night? Maybe our nightly exertions are making you dull and useless during the day. It's making you a worse manservant than usual!" The blonde stepped quite close to the other, crowding his space and used his larger frame to his advantage. He smiled wider until all of his teeth were showing in a fair imitation of wily fox grinning at an unsuspecting hen.

Merlin backed up from Arthur until he felt the hard wood of a stall door against his back, trapping him. The metal latch dug into the flesh below his shoulders and he felt a curious nuzzle from stall's occupant against the nape of his neck. The horse's breath was sticky and hot against his skin and it was overall rather disquieting. Arthur, ever the soldier, pressed his advantage and placed his hands on the stall door on either side of the sorcerer, his fingers resting lightly on the whorled cedar.

"Well? What do you say, are we going to have to cease our nightly dalliances?" asked he, his face mere inches from his lover's. Merlin, though seemingly trapped, met his Prince's eyes unflinchingly. There was a fire within them that was matched by the smoldering heat within Arthur's. His lips twisted into a wry grin.

"I should think _sire_" began Merlin in a teasing tone, "that you are the one who would a require the extra rest. You seem to fall right asleep after our...late night activities, despite your arguments that you have the better stamina." His deep blue eyes twinkled as Arthur sputtered indignantly.

"Me?!" exclaimed the prince, horrified at the insinuation, "you are the one who is always a bear to wake in the morning and you're grumpy to boot!" Merlin scoffed and tilted closer to Arthur until he could feel the other's warm breath upon his lips.

"It's because your snoring keeps me awake," he replied with a small frown. "Not to mention you hog the covers." Arthur made a noise of keen irritation in the back of his throat but leaned forward as well, his lips ghosting across Merlin's jaw until he reached his ear.

"It _is_ my bed," he growled. "Besides, if you're cold you should wrap yourself around ME."

Merlin felt heat flare across his body as he turned his head and met Arthur's mouth hungrily, devouring the taste of his lover with tongue exploring, darting, daring. The prince in turn plundered his mouth ruthlessly, licking the very essence of him before dropping his head to suck harshly on his skin below his right ear. The sorcerer gasped, his hands flying up to tangle themselves in Arthur's golden locks before sliding them downwards to press deeply into the hard muscle of his shoulders.

Arthur groaned when he felt Merlin's adroit fingers wander to trace the curve of his buttocks and pressed hard against his slender frame when the sorcerer drew the tips of his fingers languidly up again. He could feel the his lover's hardness against his, rubbing intently and creating such delicious friction that he found himself becoming quickly unraveled. If something didn't happen soon, he, Arthur - _the Crown Prince_, was in clear danger of making a mess of himself in his royal trousers.

Before any of that could come to fruition, however, there was a loud but politely firm interruption from behind them.

"Excuse me, Arthur...and, well! _Merlin_," said Morgana in a keenly delighted voice, the warm sunlight aglow against her pale skin, "but your father is summoning you both. I think he would like to go over tonight's celebration with you two," she fixed the sorcerer with a pointed stare, "especially _you_." Her cunning eyes assessed both of the young men critically, noting the rumpled clothing and the sweaty, disheveled hair. "You might want to clean yourselves up before you see you him," she offered with a sly smile. "Especially you, Arthur," she said with a sniff and flip of her dark locks. "You look like you've been playing with your _sword_ for the better part of an hour."

Morgana snickered with the jibe and turned and departed before Arthur could sputter out a retort. She paused at the entrance to the stables and looked back at them, turning slightly with a shift of her skirts. "I _knew_ you two were sleeping together!" she exclaimed with a smug, knowing grin. "Gwen and I were right!" With what was, in Arthur's opinion, a rather evil cackle, Morgana left them, disappearing into the bright daylight.

"She's positively evil," muttered the prince darkly, pushing away from Merlin with a frustrated sigh. He did his best to smooth the wrinkles from his doublet unsuccessfully. "I will go see what my father wants," he paused and grinned suddenly at the sorcerer. He casually pushed a swash of unruly, golden bangs back from his brow and clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Join us after putting Hero in his stall. You two should bond. I plan on going for a ride tomorrow and you _will_ be accompanying me." He smirked and strode out without another word.

Merlin glared daggers at his delectable, retreating backside and turned to the accursed stallion who seemed no more thrilled by the prospect of spending time with him as he did. Hero looked at him grumpily with his ears flat against his skull.

"Come on you beggarly glue bucket," he complained, "let's do what our _benevolent_ prince commands."

***

That had been hours ago. Right then, as Merlin had to listen to about the 20th long-winded speech praising Arthur's health and longevity, he thought he would rather be stuck in a stall with the ill-tempered Hero at that moment. Anything would be better than _this_. He stifled a bored yawn as he stood to one side with Gwen, who favored him with a small smile of sympathy. How she ever got used to this he didn't know. He didn't think he ever would, no matter how many of these banquets he had been been forced to attend.

Merlin shifted on his feet to keep the blood circulating and his fingers twitched impatiently at his side. Gaius shot him a warning look from across the room he stilled his hands, thrusting them into the shallow pockets of the ridiculous outfit that Uther Pendragon had required he wore; on a suggestion from Arthur, of course. Speaking of which...

Merlin trailed his gaze to where the prince was seated next to his father, a schooled expression of polite interest on his features. His sky blue eyes were trained upon nobleman what's-his-face as the man toasted and simpered and praised the young Pendragon's constitution. The sorcerer could detect the hints of boredom beneath his lover's otherwise polite expression, and he grinned slightly when Arthur shifted his gaze and caught his eye. The corner of the blonde's mouth twitched upwards briefly, so quickly that if one wasn't looking for it it would be missed, before returning his attention to the nobleman as he finished his speech. The room erupted into generous applause and everyone drank(again) to the prince's health.

Things moved quickly after that, for once dinner was finished and all of the gifts had been presented and amassed on a long table that ran the length of the east wall, the guests, wine replacing blood in their veins, found themselves in a festive mood. The crowd mingled as a small orchestra played various waltzes and minuets, and Merlin found himself watching Arthur intently as he danced with several different ladies. He found too, that his stomach twisted with jealousy when the women took their liberties with the handsome prince, trailing their soft hands across his shoulders or boldly down his sides. Arthur always just suffered it with a practiced laugh and smile, one hand firm upon their waists while the other twined gently with their delicate fingers.

After awhile Merlin decided that he needed a distraction. Judging that his sire could take care of himself for a few moments - Arthur should be occupied for a good long while, he figured, what with the line of available noblewomen vying for the next dance - he slipped out a side door into the gardens.

***

The night was warm and it carried with it the distinct perfume of flora and something pleasantly tangy. Furthermore it was refreshing, and Merlin took a large, needful breath, drawing the crisp air deep into his lungs. He glanced up and noted that the moon peered down with a half-lidded eye, a pale sliver against the dark sky. A smile; a small, private smile that came easily to him and looked natural, settled over his features.

He strolled through the gardens, skirting around the high hedges and grand fountains in search of more private spot to sit and steal a few moments of peace for himself. To his left, behind a screen of meticulously clipped shrubbery, rose a faint, gentle laugh followed by a dreamy sigh so soft, it was like the flutter of a silk ribbon as it thread through the air. Merlin shifted his course and went to the right instead, allowing whomever was over there their moment of secrecy.

After all, he understood secrecy and quite intimately at that.

He soon found himself a little off the main garden walk on a narrow pathway lined by rose bushes. The roses were in bloom and their petals were as white as driven snow against the dark green leaves. Merlin paused to admire one, reaching out a long finger to touch a pale bud when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Stopping to admire the roses, Merlin? Typical - I bet this is why you're always so late in running your errands."

Merlin turned slightly to regard Arthur and managed to look dutifully put-out by the comment, though his blue eyes still danced with hints of playful light, visible even in the deep shadow of evening. He paused a beat to quietly marvel at the way in which hazy moonlight made Arthur's light hair into a pale nimbus, giving him a softer, almost otherworldly look.

"Well _sire_," said he after a moment, "I run behind in my errands because you give me so many of them. I think you're really just trying to kill me by running me ragged half of the time!" The sorcerer folded his arms over his chest crossly in an imitation of his master, and grinned. "I would rather you just fire me if you want to be rid of me that badly."

Arthur made a show of rolling his eyes and scoffed, matching Merlin's stance and doing a much better job at looking churlish and intimidating. "If you weren't such a poor excuse for a manservant you would have no problem with the tasks I assign to you. Any competent servant would have those jobs done by lunch with time to spare." He snickered and slanted a look at the dark haired boy. "I only keep you around to save others from your truly _dreadful_ service."

"Yes well, I _choose_ to stay around to save any other poor souls from having to deal with your pratly ways," retorted Merlin a tad defensively.

Arthur arched a shapely brow. "Pratly? Really Merlin? I think you've been missing the stocks a bit, haven't you?"

"Prattish...prattishly...oh you know what I mean!" The sorcerer huffed and walked a few steps away from his lover, his long, smooth neck tense with agitation.

The prince laughed and took a step towards him, frowning when his manservant shrugged back from him. He sighed; Merlin could be such a woman sometimes! He tried a different tactic. "Why are you out here anyway? My father specifically told you to mind your role as my manservant tonight! He'll have you in the stocks for days if he catches you sneaking off to stop and smell the roses." Though Arthur spoke lightly, both boys knew that it was a valid threat, nevertheless. Uther Pendragon had no great love for Merlin, though he put up with the sorcerer's clumsy antics because of his son. If it were up to him he likely would have fired the lanky youth himself, a long time ago.

Merlin, however, didn't answer Arthur's question right away but instead averted his eyes as his neck flushed hotly with jealousy and embarrassment. "It's nothing," he mumbled, "I just needed some air is all." The blonde rolled his eyes.

"You are a terrible liar, Merlin. What is it really? I command you to tell me!" Merlin grimaced and grit his teeth, his embarrassed flush turning into a flash of annoyance; he _hated_ it when Arthur played dirty.

"It just looked like you could handle yourself without me," he ground out, meeting his sire's eyes with an expression that was one part irritated and two parts wounded. "All those noblewomen seemed to have had you well taken care of." Merlin's lower lip jutted out _just so_, and Arthur, with a herculean effort on his part, bit back the snarky retort he had prepared. Instead his expression softened and he took a step towards his lover.

He bowed at the waist formally and held out his hand. "May I have the honor of this dance?" he asked.

Merlin gaped at Arthur, clearly caught off guard. He tensed when the prince stepped forward and placed a hand firmly on his waist. Arthur held his free hand in his own, threading their fingers together as he began to lead his manservant in a slow waltz, the strains of the distant orchestra wafting on the warm breeze.

"You're terrible at this too, you know," muttered the blonde, grinning at his partner. Merlin smirked and accidentally-on-purpose tread on Arthur's foot.

"I guess we'll just have to practice more often then."

***

Minutes dragged on and the two boys seemed content to allow time to waltz by at a leisurely pace as they stole a few moments of time away from prying eyes to share a rather intimate embrace.

"A-Arthur," Merlin panted, staring up at his lover as he was pressed down onto the hard surface of a granite bench in a very secluded niche nearby. The stars spun in his eyes and the moon bashfully hid its face behind a cloud as the prince brought his mouth down upon his and ground his hips downwards into the slender body beneath him. While the sorcerer would have generally been more than content to let this hurdle towards the inevitable conclusion, his keen hearing picked up a ruckus growing in the distance.

"Wait - ah!" he groaned when Arthur snaked a hand beneath his shirt and pinched one of his nipples, hard enough to distract him. He shuddered and tried again, arching his back when his lover dipped his tongue into the curve of his ear. "Arthur, I hear something...stop."

The prince merely growled in annoyance and pinned his manservant's arms above his dark head, intent on tasting more of that milky white skin. Merlin was persistent however, and turned his head when Arthur tried to claim his mouth in another wet kiss. "I'm serious, _sire_."

His azure eyes, while heavy with lust, glinted with determination.

Arthur groaned and sat up, pulling the sorcerer with him. "I should make go muck out the stables for this," he grumbled, smoothing back his tawny locks and adjusting the golden circlet on his brow. He smirked at the high color on his manservant's cheeks and at least took pride in that. "Now what is that's _so_ important, Merlin? I don't hear a thing."

The sorcerer shot his sire a look and did his best to set his rumpled clothing back in order. "Once the blood returns to your head, your majesty, you should hear it."

"Sometimes I do wonder if you forget who your talking to," muttered the prince grumpily.

A moment later, a sound rose from the direction of the castle: the screeching of a **very** displeased cat and a high-pitched baying of a young hound.

"What on earth is a dog doing in the banquet hall?" Arthur questioned in confusion and rose to his feet. He strode briskly back towards the party, Merlin close on his heels.

Before they had gotten there the double doors to the garden were flung open and Uther Pendragon stalked out looking regally exasperated and irate. Behind him one of the guards was holding an overly large puppy by the nape, just below a large red kerchief that had been tied around its neck. Its soft, hoary coat was nearly glowing in the darkness and its eyes were darker than shadow. When it caught sight of Merlin it wagged its tail madly and barked happily.

"What is the meaning of this? I should have you thrown in the dungeons for allowing this..._mongrel_ to interrupt the birthday party of the Crown Prince. The guests are very upset." Uther looked between Merlin and his son, his eyes clearly commanding somebody to answer him.

"Father," began Arthur, but the sorcerer interrupted him, stepping forward and drawing Uther's agitated gaze. He looked rather guilty, but gathered the hound from the guard. The hound's white coat gleamed like stardust in the night as it wriggled happily in Merlin's arms.

"Sire," said Merlin, looking at Uther apologetically, "this was my present to your son." He swallowed, suddenly embarrassed by the crowd that had gathered and turned to a stunned Arthur.

"Erm, ah, happy birthday, m'lord," he said quietly, handing the hound to Arthur, who looked both touched and bewildered all at once.

(To be continued...)


End file.
